The Colour of Sorrow
by MythicDragonRider
Summary: Yao Wang had never understood why blue was the colour of sorrow. Now he did, with loss in his heart. Human AU. M for multiple character deaths, suicide, mentioned drug use and overdose, other not-so-pretty topics


**Hey Guys!**

 **I have not a clue where this came from, it just happened.**

 **Warnings: multiple character deaths, suicide, mentions of drug use and overdose, other not-so-nice topics.**

 **Yep, this is going to be one of those fanfictions. It has sensitive issues in it, and since I've never written something like this before, I'm really sorry if I offend you in any way. Please do not read if you think you might be.  
(Check out my other fic, Shattered Reflections, which has less triggering subjects! Shameless self-promoting...)**

 **So, there are mentions of PruCan, USUK, Spamano, GerIta and RoChu, but you can still read this fic (and hopefully burst into tears...) if you don't ship them.**

 **This will be a one-shot, Human AU, and remember: sensitive topics. Leave now if you don't read that sort of stuff. And it will be pretty sad. I listened to China's character song 'Aiyaa Four Thousand Years' while writing this...**

 **Enjoy!**

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Sometimes the sky could be so blue.

So bright and wonderful, cloudless azure extending across the horizon. Days like these still flashed in his memory, glimpses of sunshine and smiles and summer holidays. Friendship and trust among some stupid kids enjoying life to the fullest.

Sometimes the sky could be so dark.

Quiet and peaceful and calm, breeze through a cornfield. Nights like these also still echoed through his mind, a group of brash teenagers gazing at the stars. Pretending to be brooding and serious, yet failing, giggling and smiling and laughing.

Sometimes the sky could be so grey.

A blanket of clouds, rain pouring and thunder booming. Days like these also reverberated through his skull, tromping through the mud and splashing puddles. Cold raindrops soaking them all to the bone, the next few mornings and afternoons spent sick in bed.

The heavens above them were ever-changing, and so was the world around them, the ground below them. You could not alter that, so why would you even try? Everything was grand and beautiful, wonderful and magnificent.

Snippets of arguments without meaning, dramas without need, remained firmly in his head. Childish wonder and silly little marvels of everyday life were still a part of Yao Wang. He who still is clueless why everything had crumbled around him.

He had been happy, everyday an adventure with his somewhat odd group of friends. They had been close, closer than he would have admitted at the time, and they cared very deeply for each other. Sure, little skirmishes had appeared here and there, but had quickly been quelled. If one of them was hurt, emotionally or physically, by one outside the group, then they would practically explode, making sure whoever did it would never consider it again. If one was sad, then they would comfort them, very effectively, he might add, or just despair with them.

But then everything had fallen apart, and he was not sure of the reason.

First, it was Gilbert who shattered the illusion. The teen had always been in somewhat poor health because of his weak heart, but everything became much more real as he had passed away from a heart attack. It had effected Ludwig the most, with Elizabeta and Roderich also being very somber, but no-one really understood why the quietest among them, Matthew, seemed to have been so... ...heartbroken. Looking back on it, Yao remembered the way Matthew looked at Gilbert, and how the usually quiet and calm teenager became somewhat flustered around him. The Chinese man thought he now knew the reason to the blonde's unexplained sorrow. The entire group had been in a state of mourning, yet it hadn't been 2 weeks until a new disaster struck.

Matthew had committed suicide, saying in his letter that he couldn't stand being ignored any more, especially since the only person who actually saw him had passed away. Yao still remembered his cold, lifeless body, the old gun he had stolen from his father in his limp hands. The immense guilt and sadness everyone had felt. It was Alfred who shed the most tears, angry at himself for ignoring his twin brother. But everyone was now extremely protective of each other through their sorrow, and watched all the members of their group intently. It was through their ignorance that Matthew had died, and now that they had experienced more of the cruel reality around them, they would not let another incident happen again.

Yet tragedy and bad luck couldn't seem to leave them alone, though they had experienced more than many people their age had.

Alfred had pushed Arthur out of the way of a speeding car, avoiding death yet getting paralyzed from the waist down. By then, it had been about 5 months since Matthew and Gilbert had died, and Alfred had regained some of his former cheer. Now he was wheelchair-bound, and it hurt to see such a happy and optimistic person struggling everyday. Arthur seemed to be the most sombre, partially since he had been the one who Alfred had saved. Partially because he had loved him...

Arthur grew more silent, and avoided Alfred because he only reminded the Brit of sacrifice and lost opportunities. They could only watch on with dismay as he drifted away from them, hanging out with other, more sketchy people and later revealed to have become a drug addict. Alfred knew this was all his stupid fault, and with Matthew still in his mind, he smiled less and less. The group had watched him closely, making sure he had no thoughts of self-harm or suicide, but couldn't recover his bright grin and wonderful laugh. This had hurt them all more than they had dared admit.

By then, a lot of the trust that they had built up among the years was gone, replaced by suspicions and sadness.  
Then, they had left, one by one.

Ludwig's father had to move back to Germany because of a 'business' opportunity, and he went home brotherless. Feliciano was afraid of being alone, his long-time boyfriend far away in Europe. He just broke off from the group, and stayed with the more popular crowd, trying to forget Ludwig by expelling from his mind every memory of him, and those who were present in them. Lovino had been more hurt by this action then was obvious, and wanted to be alone, leaving them. Antonio had followed him and somehow managed to convince the brunette to be his boyfriend, but by then they were practically strangers to the group, joining another. Francis, losing the two other members of his little trio, pursued Antonio and Lovino, forgetting about everyone.

By then, with the loss of so many members, they just drifted apart. Soon, it was only him and Ivan, who had always had a crush on Yao. But, when Yao had preferred to only be friends, the Russian had felt betrayed, like when his sister had left him. Not wanting to explode one day and hurt him, he had left the Chinese in exchange for someone, anyone else.

Yao had never understood why blue was the colour of sorrow. It was so beautiful, a pretty cloudless sky, a fragrant flower. But now he knew why.

Blue was the colour of Gilbert's favourite shade, Prussian Blue, named after a long-dead country.  
Blue was the colour of the pen Matthew had used to write his very last strokes.  
Blue was the colour of the car Alfred had been hit by, it was the colour of the paper of Arthur's love letter he had written long ago but never had been brave enough to give.  
Blue was the colour of the ocean that separated Ludwig, who was in Europe, from America.  
Blue was the colour of Feliciano's shirt as he said goodbye, as he explained why he could no longer see our faces every day.  
Blue was the colour of the flora Antonio had gifted Lovino before they stopped dating, it was the colour that Francis had long ago worn, as it was 'fashionable'.  
Blue was the colour of the sky as Ivan confessed his love.

Blue was the colour Arthur wore in his coffin, passed away because of a drug overdose.  
Blue was the colour of Alfred's tears as he read the long-overdue love note that had been gifted in the will.

Sometimes the sky could be so blue.  
On those days, Yao was saddest because of what happened. He had watched it all go down, without being able to lift a finger to stop it.

Blue truly was the colour of sorrow, was it not?

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 **I warned you.**

 **Okay, hopefully you're sobbing right now (I'm such a nice person...).**

 **Remember, my other fic 'Shattered Reflections' is just as amazing. Read it. Now. Please...**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**


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